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Updated: June 12, 2025
Sorenson's horse suddenly went to its knees. But the man leaping clear took the ground on his feet and instantly set off at a run for the line of brush in the draw some seventy or eighty paces away. A last spurt Weir's pony made, bringing his rider to within thirty yards of the cattleman, who glancing over his shoulder halted, swung about, fired a shot and again started to run.
If he if he were in Ed Sorenson's place, what love he could pour out! Ed Sorenson, the double-faced wretch who while engaged to her had attempted to entice away for his own vile gratification the simple, trustful girl on Terry Creek, he was to marry this sweet and charming companion. What diabolical tragedies life could mix! "See, the moon is rising," she said.
Through the other's inconsequential talk and apparently careless acceptance of the fact of arrest the engineer had noted the tense gathering of the man's body. "Put your hands up," he interrupted at this point. Vorse had uttered no following word after speaking Sorenson's name; his voice terminated abruptly. At the same instant his right hand flew to his holster and whipped out his gun.
A perceptible shudder shook the fellow. Weir it was "Cold Steel," whose counter-stroke against one man already had been swift and deadly, whom nothing checked or turned or terrified, who now for a second time was plucking away the fruit of Sorenson's efforts, who probably on this occasion would shoot him outright. For a moment Steele Weir regarded him in silence.
Look at it that way. Consider the thing as a bad dream, done with and no more important. That's 'the right view to take'" he paused, then added softly "Janet." "How strong-souled you are!" she whispered. Strong, in truth, he seemed. Ignoring danger he had come swift on Sorenson's track and rescued her, saved her, kept her clean from her assailant's infamous brutishness.
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